


Until The Dawn

by thesaltybitch



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, soft manly friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaltybitch/pseuds/thesaltybitch
Summary: Aragorn can't sleep. Legolas hasn't slept in weeks.A moment's respite in the war of the ring.





	Until The Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Well this showed up out of nowhere. 
> 
> This is a moment that's been in my head about these two for a while. I feel like their relationship really isn't explored much and they should be friends on a much deeper level than we're given in any context. This was very self-indulgent. 
> 
> Could be slash if you squint, but not intended as such.

It was too late to be awake right now. Aragorn lay on his bedroll with his eyes closed, trying with all his might to clear his mind enough to doze off and getting nowhere. Everyone else had drifted off hours ago. Even Gandalf, who rarely slept, was snoring gently in the corner, his eyes rolled up toward the wall as wizards were prone to do. This was stupid. Aragorn rolled upright and pulled on his boots, stopping by the door to wrest his pipe from his bag before slipping into the night. 

The Golden Hall was certainly not without a view, he thought, using a small knife to clean the bowl of his pipe. It was one of the few pleasures about this dreary place. He was a traveled man and most places he could find to put his head down were good enough for him, but that didn’t make him any less prone to judgment. While morale had been up since Théoden’s return, Edoras was like still like walking through a graveyard, not that he blamed them.

Movement caught his eye to the left. Around the outside corner of the hall Legolas was standing stock still at the edge of the stone outcropping, his cloak waving gently in the breeze. Elves were notedly immune to the cold which meant they wore cloaks more for clandestine activities than warmth. Either Legolas had been brooding on the edge of a cliff for several hours or he was up to something. Knowing the elf, it was probably both. Aragorn moved to join him. 

“If you’re going to smoke I’m going to insist you share,” Legolas murmured as he drew even, his eyes were fixed to the east, towards Mordor.

Aragorn’s lips tilted up in a small smile as he lit up and took a puff before passing it to his friend. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked. 

The elf shook his head slightly, “Not for a long time. Although, I had hoped you might get some sleep if you knew I was up and about.”

Aragorn snorted. “Not these days.”

“I thought as much. It was worth a try.” Legolas tipped his head back, exhaling a thin stream of smoke through his nostrils as he passed the pipe back.

Despite their tendencies towards raging alcoholism, most elves didn’t like to smoke. It went against a lot of their traditions and views of the world, the earth, and living things. Legolas had no such reservations, although he saved that information for a select handful of people. To most, he was the regal Crown Prince of Mirkwood, maintaining a careful shroud of mystery about his person for reasons Aragorn understood better than most. Aragorn was one of three people left alive who knew the elf’s true nature, which happened to be rebellious, wickedly funny, cunning, and surprisingly warm when he wanted to be; all pieces one might come to realize with just a small amount of digging, but nobody generally dared to get that far. 

“So,” Legolas gave him a sly glance, lips twitching. “What are you planning to do with Eowyn?”

Aragorn cringed and made a frustrated little wave with his hand, trying to find words. The poor thing was besotted, just absolutely starstruck to the knowledge of literally everyone. He had hoped they would be on their way to Minas Tirith sooner than later and there would be a necessary parting, but they had stayed and it just kept getting worse. Aragorn didn’t have the heart to turn her away.

Legolas laughed and squeezed his shoulder good-naturedly. “She will be crushed no matter how you tell her, _mellon nin._ Best to do it sooner than later.”

He crouched and slung his legs over the edge, patting the stone in invitation. Aragorn lowered himself down next to him and propped himself up with one hand behind him. 

“I feel for her, Legolas,” he admitted. “Isolation here will not have done her any favors, especially caring for her uncle the way she has been for so long. I do not want to break her happiness right now.”

Legolas nodded in agreement, taking the pipe once more. “I suppose the situation seems trivial in the scope of things.”

“What about you?” Aragorn prodded, looking at his friend closely. 

“What about me?”

“You said you have not slept. I assume that means you have a lot to think about.”

“Hardly.” Legolas’ laughter was betrayed by flashing teeth, a grin that wasn’t quite friendly. 

“Liar.”

Legolas looked away this time, eyes flickering towards the East again before dropping to examine his hands. 

“Evil times are hell on all races, Aragorn,” he said lightly, handing the pipe back. “Least of which are hardly elves.”

He had a point. Elves reacted to darkness much the same way humans succumbed to sickness and death. The fact that Legolas was choosing to stay with his friends as his people left in droves was a decision he had never taken lightly. Aragorn would much rather deal with human issues than those that Legolas endured, ever silent about them. 

“You know you don’t need to pretend around me,” Aragorn pointed out gently.

He’d tried several times to convince Legolas to leave with his family, but the elf wouldn’t hear a word of it and had taken to stubbornly ignoring him any time he brought the subject up. 

“You know I don’t,” Legolas replied, shrugging one shoulder. “But you have bigger things to attend to.”

Aragorn’s lips quirked up in a wry smile. “What good are those things if I stop taking care of my friends?”

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re a sap deep down, then,” Legolas cocked his head.

Cheeky bastard. 

“You can shut your mouth,” Aragorn said, but he said it without heat. 

They sat for a moment in silence. After a beat, Legolas quietly proffered his hand, palm up. Aragorn didn’t need to be told twice. He threaded his fingers with the elf’s long, delicate ones. Legolas (as with most elves) was a tactile being and though he held himself apart among company by social convention, he was always starved for contact. Elves were a funny race. 

This particular elf had closed his eyes and taken it upon himself to lean on Aragorn’s shoulder, resting his head there weightlessly and sagging against him in that bone-tired way that affected them all at this point in the war. It had been a long time since they’d had a moment to themselves and it felt like, for just a little bit, things might not be as bad as they seemed. 

They had been friends for most of Aragorn’s life and had endured many shifts in the nature of their relationship, but the current state was Aragorn’s favorite. Unassuming, trusting, and comfortable. There was very little they didn’t know about each other by now. He had been through moods that lasted half a decade, he had watched Legolas silently rebel against his father by getting tattooed in large, flowing strokes across his entire body. He could see the barest hint of ink peeking out from beneath the light fabric of Legolas’ sleeve. He still wasn’t sure if Thranduil had ever found out about them, although he knew if he had it would have been quite a spectacle. 

Aragorn drew a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked out over the horizon. For a moment he felt the slightest glimmer of hope spark in his chest, a cautious, tentative flame, but a strong one. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself the luxury of hope, though he’d fought under the guise of it for many years. Sometimes he wished he had the freedom to be as raw and unbridled as Boromir had been…

Legolas’ breath was slow and even now. Aragorn felt no small amount of selfish relief fill him. There was really nothing he could do or say to convince the elf of anything, so for him to succumb to sleep on his own meant Aragorn wouldn’t have to deal with all three ounces of grouchy, broody Sindar elf in the morning. He smiled fondly and let his cheek rest against his friend’s head, allowing the rhythm of his breath to lull him to sleep.

Tonight he would allow himself this moment of peace and glimmer of hope. Dawn would come soon enough.

* * *

  
_here i am_  
_watching the clock that's ticking away my time_  
_i'm too numb to feel right now_  
_just tonight i will stay_  
_[just tonight, the pretty reckless]_  


**Author's Note:**

> Love these boys with all my heart.
> 
> Wanna scream with me on twitter?


End file.
